“Honah or Milton, I know you’re busy as all get-out, but whenever you have the time, Griffin and I are ready to be transported home.”
No one responded, but a few minutes later, I returned to my bedroom. There, I waited for Ellen to get back.
When she did, she said, “You’re beaming. Ranch work is your life’s calling, not being a cop. Give up on finding a new job here.”
She didn’t know how I’d managed to already get a new job, one that could outlast her lifetime, but I’d still be able to work at her ranch.
Once she ate breakfast and I pretended to, I focused on my day job. According to the weatherman, this was going to be the first day of the year that the temperature reached a hundred degrees. The summer fire season had started, and was already looking terrible.
Late that afternoon, I got the news I’d been dreading. A text from Kevin said, The idiots at the FBI think I started the fire. My lawyer says they’ve issued an arrest warrant. I have to go to court. Can you come to the Federal courthouse? The judge might listen to you.
I called Sid and passed on the news.
“Be aware,” he said, “there’s a good chance the FBI will come after you, too. Don’t say anything different to the judge than what you told Torino. In fact, just to be safe, I’ll meet you there.”
That was a relief. “Great.”
Despite my worries about sharing a cell with Kevin that night, I drove to the Federal courthouse in downtown Denver. Griffin insisted on going with me because he said demons loved courtrooms and jails. Unfortunately, Kevin didn’t have the kind of money needed to pay a large bail, and I didn’t either, so he might get locked up for months.
My guardian angel reminded me of a young Clint Eastwood, tall, thin, and shockingly handsome, but he wore a light gray suit, white shirt, and a narrow tie. More Dirty Harry than The Man With No Name.
Griffin and I met Sid, and we all passed through security. To my surprise, we were surrounded by a large crowd. From comments made by several of the guards, I realized most of these people wanted to watch Kevin’s arraignment. Most were news reporters, including Scarlet. Domestic terrorism was a huge story.
In the courtroom, I met Kevin and his lawyer. Neither of us had much to say to the other. I did tell him how much I regretted the stupidity of the FBI.
The magistrate judge methodically worked his way through a series of hearings. He was almost bald and looked to be in his sixties. His manner was brusque and efficient, taking no crap from anybody but remaining calm. I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. This man could destroy Kevin’s life.
When the clerk called out, “United States versus Kevin Winsted,” his lawyer led him up to the defense table. The U.S. Attorney for Colorado took a seat at the prosecutor’s table. He was tall and stout, and he frowned constantly.
The clerk read the charge, one felony count of violating the U.S. Code, specifically by intentionally performing an act of terrorism by setting the Meeker Park forest fire.
Instead of going through his regular routine, the judge stared at the U.S. Attorney. “That’s an extremely serious charge, counselor. I assume that’s why my gallery is full of reporters.”
The U.S. Attorney lumbered to his feet. “Your honor, there’s a great deal of public interest in this case due to the terrorism aspect. We intend to prove Mr. Winsted intentionally caused a massive loss of life and property by starting the forest fire still burning near Meeker Park.”
Kevin’s lawyer stood and introduced himself. “Your honor. If I may be briefly heard?”
The magistrate shook his head. “You’ll get your chance later, counselor, after I’ve arraigned the defendant.”
Then the magistrate made Kevin stand and ran through a series of disclosures and explanations about the charge. His lawyer coached him on how to respond. His hands shook more and more as the seriousness of the case seemed to sink in. All around me in the gallery, reporters typed like mad on their laptops.
At the end of the formalities, the magistrate asked, “How do you plead, Mr. Winsted?”
In a clear voice, he replied, “Not guilty, your honor.”
“You may be seated.” The magistrate nodded at Kevin’s lawyer. “Your turn, counselor.”
He stood, “Your honor, I move to quash the indictment as a gross miscarriage of justice. The government alleges my client conspired with another man, but they have no direct proof either man started any fire.”
The U.S. Attorney shot out of his seat. “Your honor, this is not the time or place to try the case.”
The magistrate held up his hand. “The strength of the government’s case is a factor in determining appropriate bail conditions.”
The U.S. Attorney nodded.
The magistrate asked, “What does the government propose on that issue?”
“We request bail be set at one million dollars.” The prosecutor rattled off a list of reasons, but I hardly heard them. A million bucks!
Then the magistrate asked Kevin’s lawyer what he proposed. “Your honor, with all due respect to opposing counsel, his bail recommendation is ridiculous. We request Mr. Winsted be released on his own recognizance. He is a police officer in Boulder, has no criminal record, and he voluntarily appeared today with very short notice. Mr. Winsted doesn’t even have a passport, so he’s hardly a flight risk. And the only evidence against him is general and circumstantial. Dozens of people could be charged with this crime based on exactly the same evidence.”
The magistrate went through all the proof the FBI had collected about tire tracks and the presence in the back of his Jeep of some chemical with a long, complicated name that included phosphorus and sulfur.
The magistrate considered that evidence and Kevin’s lack of an alibi for the time of the fire. Unfortunately, the FBI had determined the blaze started while he’d left the cabin for groceries, so my testimony wouldn’t help him, and I didn’t get asked to testify.
Finally, the magistrate said, “Bail is set at three hundred thousand dollars.” He smacked down his gavel.
Poor Kevin was led off to be booked and locked up. He had no chance of coming up with that kind of money.
The only thing I could do to help him was to find the real arsonist. Griffin and I returned to the ranch, and I let Honah and Milton know I was ready to investigate demons again.
Neither replied to me. I spent my time doing an internet search for the Evangelist or Antares. I got lots of hits in my searches, but none of them proved to be helpful.
-o-o-o-
Saturday, June 17th
IN THE EARLY hours of the morning, I finished investigating every kind of search I could dream up without any useful results. And I still hadn’t heard from Honah or Milton.
While I waited, my mind wandered. I remembered hearing Honah had been born eleven thousand years ago. That was well before any living thing on Earth. The most ancient bristlecone pines were only five thousand years old. The things Honah must’ve seen over his lifetime boggled my mind, and Milton was supposed to be even older.
Honah’s distinct voice rang in my head. You and your guardian need to prepare to leave the ranch. A second large forest fire has started near you. Work with Harriet to provide animal rescue services. That will be excellent cover for investigating the cause of the fire.
Ellen still slept. I turned on my cell phone, and a few minutes later, I received an email from Harriet at the Red Cross. Duty calls. A large forest fire is burning in Grand County, a few miles west of Winter Park and Fraser. Proceed to the town. I will contact you later with the specific location for our field operations.
I texted the two people who’d promised to help me. Then I went to my sister’s bedroom and knocked on her door.
She told me to enter. I found her in bed wearing a Broncos jersey as a nightshirt.
“Hey, Sis, another forest fire. It’s going to be an awful season. I’m going to pack the stuff I bought and get up there.”
She sat up. “I’m coming.”<
br />
“Maybe you should sit this one out?” I said. Her face was pale, and she obviously felt bad. “I’m worried that the smoke might be bad for the baby.”
“Oh, maybe.”
I kissed the top of her head and hoped she wouldn’t notice as her miserable feelings vanished. “You need to stay to care for your herds. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
My helpers texted me back, and I had to smile. They shared the same no bitching attitude as Ellen. People could be so wonderful.
My sister owned a full-sized pickup and several trailers. I loaded up most of the supplies I’d bought and filled one trailer. Griffin soared over the ranch. Manual labor didn’t seem to be his thing.
As I drove into the mountains, Griffin took the direct route to Winter Park, saving fifty miles of flying.
The truck lumbered up I-70 toward Winter Park. It was going to take several hours with all the gear.
-o-o-o-
THE FIRST THING I did when I reached the command center was to meet with Harriet. She was a tall, stocky, gray-haired woman who never seemed to stop moving.
She drew me aside and whispered, “Welcome to the Angelic Legion. I am one of the many peacemakers working for Honah.”
I’d suspected as much. “It’s been quite a strange trip so far.”
She simply grinned. “The work is incredibly satisfying but never ending. I’m happy to answer your questions when we get a break. For now, you can set your tent up right over there.” She pointed to a spot in a meadow near one of her tents. “By the way, I can confirm this fire was started using hellfire, just like near Meeker Park. A demon definitely started this one, too.”
That didn’t mean they were still around, but I could investigate later, after dark.
In the meantime, I set to work erecting our tent, and one of my volunteers, Sophie McMasters, showed up in time to help. She was short and thin, and her skin was covered with freckles. She’d tied her long, curly, red hair back in a bushy ponytail.
I greeted her and pointed at her compact pickup. “Listen, if we run out of space to store animals, would you be willing to transport them to shelters? I’ll pay all your expenses.”
“Sure.”
“I’m thrilled you could come on such short notice!” I meant every word. I couldn’t do everything, and given my usual bad luck, I’d expected one or both of my volunteers wouldn’t show.
When we got the tent up, we filled it with supplies. And my other volunteer, Raj Chopra, helped us. He was a tall and stocky student from CU’s engineering school.
Next, I sprayed the words ANIMAL RESCUE on a white sheet of plastic and taped it to the outside wall of the tent.
Before I finished securing the sign, the wind shifted, and ash began to drop out of the sky. The acrid smell of smoke immediately pulled me back into the Rubicon with Kevin and Lacey. I felt the ghostly memory of the burning treetop fall on me, crushing me under its weight.
My throat contracted, and tears welled in my eyes. My memories from that trip through Hell were as vivid as ever. I’d probably relive burning to death for decades to come.
The memories weren’t helping me at all, so I pushed them out of my mind and continued fastening the sign.
-o-o-o-
NOT LONG AFTER we finished unpacking, our first injured patient arrived. A soot-covered, twenty-something guy walked in wearing scuffed boots, filthy jeans, and a t-shirt emblazoned with Fire Crew, USDA Forest Service. In his arms, he carried a cardboard box. “You open for business?”
“You bet.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “What’ve you got?”
“A fox. He’s badly burned, and he cut his right front paw somehow. He can’t put any weight on it.”
I took the box and headed inside. “Oh, Jesus, I’ll bet you’re hurting.”
Within the tent, we’d screened off an area as our treatment room. “Was he fighting to get out of the box?”
“Nope,” the guy replied. “Hardly moving. I hope he makes it.”
I did, too. It’d be bad luck to lose our first patient. I set the box down on the table and opened it. Sophie stood with her phone ready to snap a picture. She cooed softly.
When I opened the box, the poor animal whimpered like a newborn puppy. His tail was entirely bare, and so was his right hindquarter. All of his exposed skin was red or covered with blisters. In one spot, the skin had burned black.
I quickly realized I faced a dilemma. If anyone saw the fox before I healed it, they’d wonder how I could’ve performed such a miracle.
“He’s in bad shape,” I said. “I don’t want to lift him out.”
I’d have to keep the others away from all the seriously injured animals until I’d finished my work. That way, my helpers wouldn’t figure out I was performing magic.
This time, keeping my secret was going to be particularly tough. Both Raj and Sophie stood right behind me, craning their necks to see the fox. I sent calming thoughts to the beast and gently slipped my hand into the box to stroke its fur. I’d already been bitten by so many frightened animals that I wasn’t surprised when the fox sank its razor-sharp teeth into my hand. Damn, that stung for a few seconds before I healed myself.
I tried not to jerk my arm back so Raj and Sophie wouldn’t know what’d happened. As soon as the fox touched me, images flooded into my mind of the terrified animal trying to escape the flames. In his panic, he’d stepped onto a sharp rock on a talus slope, and it’d sliced open one of his pads.
I kept sending soothing thoughts, and the fox relaxed. The exposed skin returned to normal. That presented me with a new problem—too much healing too soon.
Not sure how to stop a miracle, I thought, no more.
It worked. No fur regrew over the healed skin. The bald tail and hindquarter looked ridiculous, but that hair could regrow naturally. I checked his cut paw, and it was perfectly normal. At least the fox wouldn’t suffer anymore. Burn wounds, in particular, could be incredibly painful. I knew that from personal experience.
Although it wasn’t necessary, I cut several sections of second-skin to cover the healed burns. That way, the others wouldn’t notice the fox’s bare skin looked normal.
A warm glow of accomplishment flooded through me as I handed the box to Raj and Sophie. “Could you two get him into a kennel while he’s still woozy? Give him a little food and water. Then stick him in one of the back corners and cover the cage with a tarp so he has some privacy.”
They both nodded eagerly and took away our first patient.
I was happy Ellen wasn’t there. The biggest problem with keeping secrets from her was that she was too smart. I couldn’t keep fooling her for long. I had to talk to Honah or Milton. Unless they let me tell her the truth, I was going to catch hell when she saw through my lies.
For now, though, I had no problem. Just more patients. Within a few minutes, another firefighter dropped off a bobcat in a burlap sack. “It’s lost some fur but doesn’t seem to be in too bad of shape.”
The cat hissed, snarled, and struggled to get out. Its claws pierced the burlap, so the firefighter held the bag away from himself. “He’s pissed, so be careful.”
“Thanks,” I said to the firefighter. “We’ll take it from here.”
I accepted the bag and sent more calming thoughts. At first, the animal kept hissing and snarling as it thrashed every which way to get at me. But I stayed patient and sang “Amazing Grace”.
The hymn soothed this savage beast. It stopped fighting and quieted down.
I slowly brought the bag closer to my chest. The contact seemed to help the animal relax even more. Then I set the bag on the table in our clean area. I opened the burlap and slipped my hand inside. This time, the poor beast didn’t bite me, which was a big plus. Its teeth were huge.
Sophie smiled at me. “Let me see. You glow each time you help one.”
I warmed inside again. Because she hadn’t seen the bobcat’s condition, I allowed my healing powers to work completely.
&nbs
p; When I opened the bag for her and Raj to see, the cat was in perfect shape. I stroked her coat a few times to calm her now that she was exposed and to give them a chance to see the cat. Then I closed the bag again and handed it to Raj.
“Find a larger crate for her and give her some chow and water. She’s starving.”
He accepted the animal. “Looks like we’re going to get plenty of business.”
-o-o-o-
I HELPED A steady stream of patients until a tall, heavyset man in a dark, well-tailored suit stood in the tent’s entrance. He dressed too fancy for a detective. The guy had to be either a lawyer or a politician, and neither were welcome, unless Sid chose to come.
“Gabriel Townsend?” the man asked.
“Who wants to know?”
“Richard Houston, the governor’s chief of staff.” The man grinned, strode forward, and stuck out his hand.
All day long, Griffin had kept me in sight but otherwise had pretended I didn’t exist. When I was in the tent, he came inside in the form of a sparrow who roosted on one of the poles supporting the tent.
At that instant, his deep male voice sounded in my head. He’s a demon, but not nearly as strong as the governor. You can safely touch him.
I took Houston’s hand. Although I hadn’t gotten any response to my idea about using him as my entry point into the infernal world, I figured that if it had been a crazy idea, someone would’ve warned me off by then. “Sorry I kept missing your calls. I’ve been as busy as a bee lately.”
Houston appeared not to mind. His grin didn’t change. “I know the feeling, Mr. Townsend.”
“You can tell the governor I appreciate his concern about my health. I’m fine but too busy to meet with him. And I’m not crazy about cameras or crowds. If he has any specific questions for me, why don’t you just ask me instead?”
The man’s grin vanished. “The governor only wishes to help you achieve the best possible future. It would be wise to participate in a short meeting with him and a photographer.”
Forged by Fire (Angels at the Edge Book 1) Page 9
